


You Don't Have to Say a Word - Not With Me

by Rachie_Boo123



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Banter, Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Gen, Gen Work, Homophobic Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Dialogue, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus in a dress, No Incest, Pre-Canon, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sort Of, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachie_Boo123/pseuds/Rachie_Boo123
Summary: It’s not that he doesn’t have a lot to say, in fact, that’s kind of the problem. The words get all jumbled in his mind and he can’t pick out the right letters to form and instead they all just get stuck in his throat.But Klaus knows this.OrKlaus talks so Diego doesn't have toOr orKlaus 'comes out' about his clothing choices and Diego has a lot he can't say but hopes Klaus knows anyway





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again, with another TUA drabble. I hope you all like it, thank you for the love on my last story. This one is going to be two parts so keep an eye out for the second publication. I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know in the comments what you liked/thought!

Klaus is always talking, always has something to say. 

The other siblings get annoyed at this, especially Five who’s stubborn and opinionated. He doesn’t think Vanya minds much, she probably enjoys it even, his words filling the space and making her feel not so alone. Especially on  _those_ days. 

But, he thinks, no one _appreciates_ it like he does. Because when Klaus talks, _he_ doesn’t have to. 

It’s not that he doesn’t have a lot to say, in fact, that’s kind of the problem. The words get all jumbled in his mind and he can’t pick out the right letters to form and instead they all just get stuck in his throat.

But Klaus _knows_ this. 

He doesn’t try and push Diego to just  _fucking spit it out already_ or sigh in exasperation. He just smiles. His simple, goofy smile, that’s just so incredibly  _Klaus_. 

Sometimes Diego thinks there is more that connects them than a magical birthdate and supernatural abilities because it’s like Klaus just knows what he means without him having to say a word. 

And for someone who can’t seem to form a sentence without stumbling and tripping over the words, it’s kind of funny that he finally feels _heard_ when he’s not saying anything at all. 

Klaus is sitting in the kitchen, not in a seat but rather on the counter because  _‘where else would I sit, dear brother’_ and apparently that makes sense in his brain, like the seats aren’t even an option. Diego is beside him, leaning over the counter and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with the crusts cut off, courtesy of Mom. She had offered Klaus one but he refused, instead perfectly happy eating Diego’s sandwich instead. 

It’s almost annoying, but it’s so  _Klaus_ that he just shakes his head and ends up shoving the plate so it’s between them.  

“I was thinking,” Klaus begins, sucking jelly from his fingers instead of using the napkins placed delicately under the plate to wipe his hands. “I want to start dressing more like...Allison” the slight pause is the only clue that Klaus is nervous because unlike Diego his words always come out confident and loud. Even if he’s not. 

Diego quirks a brow, swatting his hand at Klaus when he moves to grab more of the sandwich. 

“It’s just saliva Diego, it’s like sharing a drink,” he reasons, already knowing what Diego is thinking. And as if to punctuate his point he reaches for the glass of milk on the other side of the plate, taking a large gulp before setting it down and letting out a loud belch. 

Diego screws his face up, nose wrinkling in distaste but motions for Klaus to continue anyway, ripping off chunks of the sweet goodness to pop into his mouth. 

“I dunno, I just like skirts and dresses and stuff. They are so  _pretty_ , I wanna be pretty like that.” Klaus says, hand tugging at the edges of his uniform pants. 

Diego thinks this is how they differ most, Klaus’s words always come out confident and sure, like he knows what he’s talking about. He’s always the first person to make a joke or a quick comeback. However, his body language is the exact opposite. His shoulders, bony and narrow for a boy his age, often cave inwards. He can never seem to sit still, often picking at loose threads or creating them, and if not that then tapping his foot or playing with his untamed curls. 

Diego is the exact opposite. While his words never seem to be able to form into anything besides a sputtering string of letters, his body is full of confidence. He stands at full height, always, chin tilted upwards and shoulders back. His movements are often determined and steady, knowing exactly what he’s going to do and how. Every movement he makes is calculated and planned, there’s no fumbling or misdirects, which is all his mouth seems to be capable of doing. 

Sometimes Diego thinks that all forty-three of them are just part of one being, split into a bunch of different pieces. That perhaps, he can’t talk and Klaus can’t show _it_ because they were never really _whole_. 

He looks back at Klaus, taking in the way he chews his lip and has stopped eating entirely. It makes Diego wants to tell Klaus he doesn’t care what he wears, he’s his brother and he _loves_ him.

He wants to tell him that he would look _nice_ in a skirt, perhaps Allison might even share if he asks her just right. 

He wants to tell him not to worry about what dad says or anyone else for that matter because he doesn’t need their approval. 

He wants to tell him that if _anyone_ gives him shit, even dad, he’ll stand by his side.

Because this is who he is. And honestly, he didn’t even have to tell him because he’s seen it. He already knows. He sees it in the way he looks at the pink and glittery vests Allison wears or the heels Mom seems to have on daily. He’s always wanted it, even if _he_ hasn’t always  _known_ it, Diego has.

But, of course, the words can’t seem to form and his lip begins to quiver and all he can manage to say is “y-y-you,” before his frustration get the best of him and he slams his palm against the counter, making the other boy jump.

He sighs and like a balloon deflating he leans heavily against the counter, all fight completely gone.

He reaches over to grasp Klaus’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. He smiles at him and doesn’t even have to look up because Klaus’s height hasn’t quite caught up to his limbs yet and he’s the shortest of the siblings _(besides Ben)_. It’s one of his real smiles too, not the ones for interviews or their father, but the ones reserved for Mom and Klaus _(and his other siblings too, most of the time anyway)_.

Klaus’s eyes are wide and incredibly green, and to Diego’s heartbreaking realization, filling with tears. He doesn’t know what he did wrong- _actually_ , no, he does. It’s his stupid, useless _voice_. He can’t even comfort his own brother. Maybe his dad was right and-

“I knew you’d understand,” Klaus breathes, shaky and watery, before squeezing Diego’s hand back just as hard.

And now Diego thinks he could _cry_ too.

Klaus has always been the _sensitive_ one. His father hated it, often picking on the curly haired sibling for his watery, red-rimmed eyes after a mission or drill. Whereas Diego was the opposite, keeping everything inside, even with Mom. And he really doesn’t even know _why_ , but he thinks maybe he just doesn’t wanna trouble anyone with his feelings. Or maybe it’s some fucked up view of masculinity his father has instilled in him, and maybe that’s why Klaus is scared to even tell Diego he wants to be _himself_.

In one swift movement, Klaus jumped down from the counter, now coming up to Diego’s shoulder, and wraps his too long arms around his midsection, pressing his face into his jacket.

And Diego feels like shit because his first thought is to _shove_ Klaus away and how fucked up is that? All Klaus ever seems to want is to be _touched_. It probably has something to do with half the people around him being _dead_ and the fact that he can feel you proves you’re something _real_.

His arms come up to wrap around Klaus, one hand resting in his curls and the other on his back, in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

His mouth opens again, to tell Klaus it’s okay and that he’s here for him no matter what, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, squeezing his brother closer to his chest, who’s hands are fisting the back of his jackets, irrevocably wrinkling the fabric.

And when Klaus pulls back, minutes later, and looks up at his brother with those big green eyes and smiles a huge goofy grin, Diego knows he didn’t have to _say_ it at all because Klaus just _knows_ , like he _always_ does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you all think? At least it's not as sad as the last one. There is going to be another part to follow that hopefully won't be too far away. Leave a comment letting me know you're favourite part!


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone, I finally wrote chapter two today! I hope you all like it, it's a little darker and a lot sadder than chapter one - be warned. Let me know what you all think in the comments below!
> 
> PS: sorry about the weird spacing, I wrote it on my phone and fucked around with the formatting for a bit and this was the best I could get it.

It had started off subtle, well as _subtle_ as Klaus could be. He wore bright colours, pinks, and purples, with fur and lace. Everything he wore he had to  _borrow_ fromAllison, their _father_ , of course, refusing to buy him anything he didn’t deem as masculine. Klaus didn’t seem to mind, happy enough with the scraps he got from Allison. 

 

But as time went on, he became bolder. He changed from colourful jeans to skirts, from feminine blouses to crop tops or even dresses. He even went through a sewing phase, that mom was all too happy to indulge, where he created his own patterns and designs. Allison was ecstatic, finally having her clothes to herself once again. 

 

One day, not too long after their talk in the kitchen, Diego found Klaus sitting at mom’s vanity. 

 

The taller boy, as the only thing on Klaus that seemed to be growing these days were his limbs and his eye for fashion, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and feet crossed at his ankles. 

 

It only takes a moment for Klaus to notice him, almost like he’s in tune to his very presence. Which Diego, for the record, thinks is incredibly odd, especially when considering all the _dead people_ that must float around him constantly, he assumed he would tune out his surroundings. But, maybe, instead, he’s hyper-aware, just begging to see something  _real_.

 

“Hello, Di,” Klaus offers, not moving from his position and flicking his eyes to the task at hand, which, so happens to be applying a thick rim of black eyeliner. 

 

It’s mom’s makeup, of course, meaning it’s expensive, and it looks like he’s put it on and rubbed it off about half a dozen times now. Diego only raises an eyebrow when their eyes meet, the simple gesture all he needs to communicate with his brother. 

 

“I just can’t seem to get it right,” Klaus offers, blowing out an exasperated breath before tossing the pencil onto the counter. 

 

Diego tilts his head, both in confusion and in agreement. It doesn’t look like mom’s, a perfect thin line that makes her eyes look bigger and quite pretty. But it doesn’t look bad, either. It’s smoked out, the black fading the further it gets from his eyes and the line is thick, much thicker than mom’s _(and definitely not as straight)_ , but it suits him. His eyes look wider and greener, impossibly so even. 

 

Klaus sighs again, shoulders slumping inwards before he says, just above a whisper, which is enough to shock Diego enough that his arms fall limply at his sides because he can’t remember a time when Klaus was quiet: “I just wanna look like, _mom_.”

 

And his eyes are meeting Diego’s again in the reflection of the mirror and Diego has seen that look a million times. And he  _hates_ it. It makes his stomach churn and his heartache and god, he just wants Klaus to  _stop_ looking at him like that.

 

He opens his mouth, to offer words of encouragement, a joke to make him smile, a compliment even, but it doesn’t matter because nothing _ever_ leaves his lips.

 

Instead, he makes his way over to Klaus, crouching down so that he’s at Klaus level and uses the pad of his thumb to rub away the excess eyeliner that was on his cheek. He does this a few more times, on both sides, before turning him to face the mirror once again. Diego can see them both now in the reflection. He sees Klaus eyes wildly examining his own features, tilting his head to and fro to see every angle. After a minute, his eyes meet Diego’s brown ones once again and this time he’s _smiling_. 

 

And Diego, who feels more like an older, protective brother of the smaller boy more often than not can finally breathe because that look is finally gone. Replaced by one that’s soft and happy, something they don’t often get growing up where they do. And for a moment it’s like Klaus can’t speak either and instead, he’s channeling everything into his eyes, something he must have learned from _Diego_. The green pools, now rimmed much more finely, held so many emotions: gratitude, happiness, appreciation, and love. They said, ‘ _you don’t have to talk. Not with me. Ever. Because I hear you loud and clear’._

 

And despite this look being significantly better than the last, it still made something twist in his stomach, but in a much better way. Maybe it’s because they weren’t supposed to show affection or  _love_. Maybe it’s because he knows if their father-  _no, Reginald_ \- could see them right now he wouldn’t hesitate in  _punishing_ them. Maybe it’s because he  _loves_ Klaus too but he’s too scared to say it, because, as awful as it sounds _(even in his own mind)_ he doesn’t want to sound  _gay_. 

 

He doesn’t know why he feels like this or thinks this. Because, Klaus, who has  _never_ been shy about a damn thing, has been pretty clear about his infatuation for the same gender since he could talk and Diego is  _fine_ with that. _Really_. He loves his brother and it doesn’t matter who he loves, if pineapples were his kink, so be it. But for some reason, if that was turned around on him, if someone  _thought_ he was  _gay_ , it makes him panic.

 

And it’s  _stupid_ , really, he knows that. It’s his brother, he  _loves_ him, of course, he loves him. But he just can’t  _say_ it. Not to Klaus. Not to  _anyone_.  

 

It _must_ be Reginald’s fault. The man, who scowled from the very first mention of Klaus thinking a cartoon character, who just happened to be a boy, was cute when they were kids. Who glared at his son in interviews if he mentioned anything about his sexuality. Who told them to man-up when they got hurt or to stop acting like a couple of  _faggots_ when they would hug or hold hands. 

 

It makes him  _angry_. Angry at Reginald for making him think this way, angry at the world for judging people, but most of all angry at himself for thinking it’s a bad thing.

Especially when he  _knows_ it not. 

 

But Klaus doesn’t know  _all_ this, at least he doesn’t think he does, because he can’t fucking  _say_ it. Klaus is good at reading his emotions and body language, but he’s not an actual mind reader so there’s no way he could know. And for that, he’s kind of glad. Because he would  _hate_ to see the look, he would have on his face then. 

 

Klaus, who has been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few moments, finally begins to talk. And boy, does he ever talk, like he has to make up for the silence by speaking ten-fold. 

 

He’s telling Diego about make up, about his favourite colours, products, he’s asking a million questions  _(like he always does, even though he knows Diego won’t -can’t- answer)_ , he’s smiling wide, and his eyes are shining and his fingers are finally still. 

 

And even though he can’t say it, perhaps even if his stutter wasn’t an issue, maybe he can show it. He leans down, tilting his head just slightly to kiss the top of his head before ruffling his hair. And it’s enough to stop Klaus mid-sentence, to have him meet Diego’s eyes in the reflection once again, and they are soft and gooey and he’s smiling even wider now like he knows _exactly_ what the other means. 

 

And then: “I love you too, Di,” he says, simply, like it doesn’t take a thought or a reason. And maybe Klaus  _really_ is a mind reader. Or perhaps, it’s just Klaus being Klaus, the brother who always seems to talk, perhaps enough for them both, but who always,  _always_ listens too. Because Diego’s actions have always spoken louder than his words, they’ve had to. But no one else ever seems to listen. 

 

Diego’s voice is feeling thick and his eyes a little too watery, so instead he decides to lighten things up. He holds his finger out, a gesture for Klaus to wait right there before he disappears into mom’s closet. He comes back out; a few dresses are thrown over his arm and a pair of heels in hand. He shrugs his shoulders up, as a kind of “what do you think?”

 

And Klaus is jumping and smiling and giggling, twirling around the taller boy and looking at the different fabrics before Diego can even blink. He knows they’ll all be too big, moms tall and bigger than Klaus, who’s unnaturally skinny and lithe for his age _(where his only baby fat is on his face)_ and that they should probably just scoop some stuff from Allison’s closet instead, but he really,  _really_ wants to look like mom. And who is Diego to deny his brother? 

 

He can’t really blame him either, their mom is beautiful and lovely, and possibly the only good adult role model in their fucking lives. So, of course, Klaus idolizes her. Diego does too.

 

And before Diego can say a word, Klaus is tugging off his shirt and Diego is turning around to avoid seeing the rest. He wasn’t lying when he said Klaus wasn’t shy about a damn thing. 

 

“You’re fine to turn around now,” Klaus chirps, from behind him after a moment. And even though Diego hasn’t turned back towards him yet he can practically feel the beaming smile on the kid's face. 

 

Diego turns and Klaus is standing tall _(for once)_ with their mom's red dress pooling at his feet. It isn’t supposed to hit the ground, in fact, he thinks when mom wears it comes just below her knees, but Klaus’s thin frame and short stature aren’t doing much to lift it up. It cinched at the waist and poofs out, making him look even smaller. It’s too big on his chest and the straps are sagging off one shoulder to expose his collar bone but he’s smiling so fucking wide and his eyes are shining so bright that Diego can’t help but think he looks beautiful anyways. 

 

“I feel fucking gorgeous,” Klaus states, twirling happily and letting the dress fan out around him. He stumbles slightly when the fabric weaves its way between his feet but catches himself on the edge of the vanity. 

 

“I love it! I love it! I love it!” 

 

Diego offers up the heels, plain back and more than a couple of inches high. Klaus grabs them greedily, quickly putting them on without even taking a seat.

 

They are too big on his feet and the lone ankle strap is struggling to stay on, despite the fact that it’s at its tightest setting. But he seems to love them despite that. 

 

Klaus looks up from his feet and it’s weird because he’s now the same height as Diego and they’ve never seen each other from this perspective and Diego thinks he likes it better when Klaus is smaller than him. 

 

“We’re the same height!” Klaus exclaims, voice an octave higher than normal. “Does this mean  _I'm_ the big brother now?” He grins, arms crossing against his chest. 

 

Diego shakes his head, giving him a look, he knows Klaus will read easily. 

 

“Okay,” Klaus begins, already uncrossing his arms. “Not the biggest brother, but bigger!”

 

And Diego doesn’t even have to give him  _the_ look before Klaus is already replying: “Yeah, yeah, I know _‘you’ll always be my big brother’_ but we were born on the same freaking day!”

 

Diego is laughing now because he’s heard it a million times from Klaus who often shouts  _‘nobody puts baby in a corner!’_ when he’s referred to as their little brother. 

 

“It’s not funny, Diego. One day I’m going to be as tall as you,  _no_ , taller even!”

 

Diego simply shakes his head and can’t help but think:  _Sure, Klaus. Whatever you say._

 

But he knows Klaus hears it anyway. 

 

“I’m not kidding Diego, just you wait. Once my growth spurt hits it’s over for you, bitches.”  _(And seriously is he a mind reader?)_

 

Klaus takes a few steps towards Diego, his ankles buckling like a newborn calf before straightening after a handful of steps. 

 

“This is harder than it looks,” he muses, grabbing Diego’s arm tightly when his left ankle almost gives in. And honestly, Diego just wishes he told Klaus to take them off then and there. But he didn’t. 

 

His hand comes up to grasp Klaus's elbow, so they are holding on to one another’s arm like a lifeline and Diego carefully spins him around so his back is too him and gestures with his other hand for him to step forward. 

 

He takes a few more steps, each one becoming steadier than the last, and by the time he reaches the other side of the room he’s let go of Diego and he’s doing it all on his own now. 

 

“Look at me!” He cheers, twirling slowly in the heels, his hands dancing in the air around him.

 

Diego nods and smiles back at him encouragingly. He has to admit he caught on quickly. 

 

“I don’t know how mom wears these all the time, my feet already hurt,” Klaus complains, daring to start walking into the hallway. 

 

Diego makes a vague gesture with his hand, which wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but Klaus understands, of course, he does. 

 

“Well, I can’t just take them off Diego, they complete the look!” He sounds exasperated, likes he’s explaining something incredibly simple to him, which only has Diego shaking his head in response. 

 

“Besides,” he continues, walking in a straight path away from Diego and then back towards him “I need the practice if I’m going to start wearing these all the time.” 

 

Diego supposes it’s true, but he decides to stick around anyway, despite the fact that Klaus doing laps of their home isn’t the most exciting way to spend a Sunday. 

 

It must be an hour or so later before _it_ happens, or maybe it just feels like that to Diego, he’s not sure. 

 

Klaus is walking and talking, _of course he’s talking_ , and he’s gesturing wildly with his hands and explaining some insane television plot he saw to his brother when his feet get twisted in the swooping fabric of the dress, he stumbles, once, twice before he’s _falling._ It wouldn’t have been a big deal if the staircase wasn’t directly in front of him. 

 

Diego reaches for him, but it’s a moment too late, and Klaus is tumbling down the stairs and it’s just a blur of red and loud bumps and cries and then it’s _silent_. 

 

It takes Diego a moment, a moment too long probably, to react, and he’s running down the stairs after him. 

 

Klaus is tangled in the fabric and his limbs look like they’re in one big knot, there’s  _blood_ on his face and it’s smeared across his cheeks and he can’t tell if there’s more because the fucking dress is so _red_ and it’s sprawled out all around him and he’s _too_   _still_. _Too_   _silent_. And Diego can’t even call out to him because his voice has just disappeared, so there’s not even a stutter left in his throat. 

 

He begins to shake him, gently of course, but when that doesn’t get a reply, he does it much more harshly. He’s tapping Klaus' cheeks and moving his shoulders and silently begging for him to wake up. Expect it doesn’t sound silent to him, it sounds like he’s screaming and crying, but no one can hear him. And now he’s praying Klaus  _is_ a mind reader because for some reason the words just won’t come and  _please Klaus, wake up._  

 

And finally,  _finally_ , Klaus opens his eyes. They’re hazy and one pupil looks bigger than the other but at least he’s fucking awake. 

 

Diego is hovering over him, eyes darting across his features trying to assess the damage and ask if he’s okay. 

 

Klaus opens his mouth to reply, but the only thing that comes out is _blood_ and a _heartbreaking cry_. 

 

And Diego thinks he might cry and throw up and he’s almost wishing he didn’t wake up because he’ll never be able to get that sound out of his head. 

 

And Klaus is crying still, moaning in pain and wailing in a way Diego has never heard. There’s blood leaking out of his mouth and it running down his cheek and pooling in his hair and there’s _so fucking much blood_ that Diego feels like he’s choking on it when really Klaus is the one struggling to breathe through it. 

 

He’s rubbing Klaus' arm and shushing him comfortingly, but he doesn’t know what to do. He looks around, seeing if any of their other siblings had come after hearing the ruckus. But they are all off in their own worlds enjoying what little free time they had. He searches for mom or Pogo, who often materialize when most needed, but they are nowhere to be found. Hell, he even looked for Reginald, because it was better than nothing. But they were all _alone_ and no one was coming. 

 

The house is giant, it takes up a whole freaking block if he left Klaus's side to try and find them _(which he really doesn’t want to do)_ it could take awhile. And what if Klaus starts choking? Or passes out again? Or is just too damn scared to be alone?  _(like Diego is right now)_

 

The only way to get help is to ask for it. 

 

His heart is pounding in his ears and he can’t hear anything besides his blood pumping and the cries coming from his brother. He wants it to _stop_. He wants to help. But the words are all stuck and they won’t come out and he _hates_ himself for it. He wants to scream and cry and yell at the world. But he _can’t_. And that only makes him angrier. 

 

And now Klaus is looking at him, his makeup long smudged with tears and blood, and his lips are painted red _(but not from any makeup)_ and he’s gasping for breath and wheezing through puddles of blood and he’s _begging_ Diego to help him.

 

So, Diego does. 

 

And now he’s screaming. And it _hurts_. He’s never screamed before and his vocal cords aren’t used to the tension and they are pulled taut as he cries for their mother. But it also feels good. Because he’s never made noise before, he’s never been this loud. And he can finally hear his own voice, hear something other than his brother’s cries.

 

Klaus is gripping his hand impossibly tight now and Diego’s hand is stained red but he doesn’t care. And despite how silly it sounds Klaus isn’t comforting himself or asking for help anymore, _he’s comforting Diego_. Because he knows how hard this is, what this is doing to him. 

 

But the problem is, now that he’s started screaming _he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop._

 

Not when their mom finally shows up and begins to help Klaus. 

 

Not when the ambulance shows up and loads Klaus into the back ( _because it really is that bad)_ their hands slipping apart leaving only blood in their wake. 

 

Not when Reginald lectures and scolds him for everything that’s happened. 

 

Not when his siblings are looking at him for answers. 

 

And especially not when he looks in the mirror and sees his brother’s bloody hand prints all over his skin, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wash it off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! My poor heart aches for them both. In the midst of writing the second chapter I actually came up an idea for a third chapter, so this will have one more, final part to it. Don't forget to comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what do you all think? At least it's not as sad as the last one. There is going to be another part to follow that hopefully won't be too far away. Leave a comment letting me know you're favourite part!


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